


Lest I Slip, Lest I Fall

by bozanga



Series: A Random Human AU That I Keep Adding On To [2]
Category: Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles (Bay Movies), Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles (TV 2003), Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles (TV 2012), Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Human, Cross-Posted on FanFiction.Net, Do not worry pal, Don't believe me?, Freeform, Gen, Genderfluid Michelangelo (TMNT), Human Michelangelo (TMNT), Human Raphael, M/M, Mike and Raph Centric tho, Older Sibling Raphael (TMNT), Other, Past though - Freeform, Poems, Smoking, Substance Abuse, Suicide Attempt, i will continue to force that tag until it is popular, mentioned don and leo, miss me with that legal trouble bullshit, t r y m e
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-28
Updated: 2020-04-28
Packaged: 2021-03-02 05:46:48
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,100
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23889946
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bozanga/pseuds/bozanga
Summary: Raph carries his brother home. Purely self-indulgent and Human AU. An ending to the 100 Miles and Runnin’ oneshot I did literally a month ago. Read Notes.
Relationships: Michelangelo & Raphael (TMNT)
Series: A Random Human AU That I Keep Adding On To [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1721881
Comments: 9
Kudos: 38





	Lest I Slip, Lest I Fall

**Author's Note:**

> Title: Lest I Slip, Lest I Fall
> 
> Summary: Raph carries his brother home. Purely self-indulgent and Human AU. An ending to the 100 Miles and Runnin' oneshot I did literally a month ago. Read Notes.
> 
> Version/s: 2k3/2k7, 2k12, 2k14/2k16  
> Author: Nukas/bozanga  
> Technicalities Gutter: I don't own the turtles, buddy. #missmewiththatlegaltroublebullshit  
> Warnings: Drug usage/alcohol, violence, my usual amount of cussing, and mental illness.
> 
> Notes: New personal headcanon is that Mike in human form is Scottish-Jamaican kind of like Bobby from LITG and no one can change my mind. I wrote the poem and I don't normally do poetry but for some reason, this just came to me as something that Mike would actually write and since I'm writing his character every time I turn around, I felt like I embodied him and his feelings pretty well. I hope it isn't too cringey, but if it is, what can I say? This is what you sign up for when you read my work, buddy. Enjoy!

It takes Raph some of his strength to get his younger brother up the front apartment steps, but it takes all of it to get him the entire way up to their fourth-floor apartment.

"C'mon, Mike," Raph pants, "c'mon, start carryin' ya own weight, bud," Raph tries to coach his brother, but Mike isn't having it. He seems intent on letting Raph drag his half-conscious body to the door.

" _Mike_ , ugh, c'mon, knucklehead. I need you ta lean against the wall or somethin' so I can get the door open." Mike didn't respond, he just let Raph lean him against the hall and groaned softly, trying to will his legs into steadying. They wouldn't, and just as Raph got the door open, Mike collapsed to the ground.

"Damnit, Mike! Get... _up_...you fat little shit," Raph hissed. Okay so maybe his brother wasn't fat, but he wasn't fit either. Plus, Mike had a permanent baby face that always seemed to add an extra 15 pounds or so to his soft frame.

He heaved Mike into the apartment with a low growl of annoyance. Unable to close the door behind himself, he went straight to the couch and dumped him there, though he did feel a bit bad when he saw Mike's wince and the sad, almost pathetic whine that followed.

He shut the door nicely, now realizing to be a bit more compassionate and considerate towards his brother, and locked it. He inwardly cursed when he realized that he left the lights on after rushing out to pick up his brother ( _the numbers on his electricity bill were climbing higher and higher each time he saw it_ ). He put his keys on the coffee table and left his brother in search of a first aid kit, some rags, a bag of ice that he always kept in the freezer, and a bottle of water.

" _-aaphie_... _c'me 'ack_ …" The muffled, needy, about-to-cry whine that came from the mop-headed mess on the couch carried across the apartment somehow. Raph, who was in the bathroom getting the first aid kit, sighed to himself. When Mike regressed like that it always meant he was sick, injured, or worse, a complete wreck. Raph guessed it was all three.

"Comin', buddy. Gimme a sec," Raph mumbled softly, knowing Mike heard it as their apartment was barely even considered a one-bedroom. Even if it got labeled as a studio, one would still be dubious of what the classifications were.

Raph walked out of the bathroom and past the couch to the makeshift kitchen they had. He clenched his teeth a bit harder each time Mike whined and complained about the noise he was making rummaging through the fridge and freezer.

"-ude, shud up," Mike whined for the ninth time within the past four minutes. He was still in the original position Raph had dumped him in; slouched on the cushions, sliding slowly off, leaning against the armrest. His head kept lolling around like his body didn't have the strength to even hold up his own head.

"Ya know, if you don't like tha sound I make searchin' fer shit fer _yer_ injuries, I suggest not gettin' hurt in tha ferst place, dumbass. Maybe don't go out at night in _New York_ , of all places?" Raph grit out, getting fed up with his younger brother. Yes, he did have compassion for him, but he did _not_ have the patience to listen to him bitch and whine all night about something he could've prevented.

Something _Raph_ could've prevented. If he just kept a tighter leash on his baby brother, kept a closer eye on him, then maybe this could've all been avoided.

"M'just trynna…'itch 'n...feel bad...m'makin' you 'tressed…" Raph's eyes darted down as he closed the door to the fridge a bit too roughly. He made his way over to his, now sobbing, kin and sat down next to him. He put the water bottle, rags, and bag of ice on the cushions between them then opened the first aid kit and set it on the coffee table. He let the silence stretch between them and fished out everything he needed to patch Mike up.

"Here," Raph handed Mike a clean rag, "stuff up yer nose. Stop tha bleedin' so you can drink somethin'. I'll take care of yer hand." Mike blinked blearily for a moment like he didn't understand what Raph was saying, before taking the rag wearily.

Raph pulled back long strands of wet, brown curls that stuck to his brother's face and probably annoyed him a bit as they were blocking a lot of his vision. Some strands had blood from his nose and sweat, rainwater, dirt, and/or tears on them, and Raph took a mental note to remind his brother to shower in the morning.

Mike's head was hung down, he was still sniffling and hiccuping between his quiet sobs, but he kept the rag pressed against his bloody nose like he was told to. Raph realized his brother was trembling as he gingerly took his brother's messed up hand into his own and studied it.

"Who'd ya sock?" Raph's dark, stormy green eyes peered up from Mike's hand, meeting Mike's honey brown for a fleeting moment before returning back to the task at hand. Mike saw all the anger, guilt, sadness, love, and, most shockingly to Michaelangelo, fear in that quick glance.

Mike didn't respond, still crying (a bit harder now) and afraid of accidentally letting a name slip out or setting off the ticking time bomb that was his big brother. The last thing he needed to do was get Raph sent to jail again.

"'Ight fine, don't tell me," Raph grumbled, gripping Mike's hand firmer but still being mindful of his injury. Raph, who makes more than half of his _income_ off of street fighting, never broke his own hand this badly. Who the hell did his little brother punch that had this dense of a head?

Raph finished resetting and splinting Mike's two fingers that were broken, then cleaned and wrapped the hand. While only two fingers were broken, there were numerous scrapes and cuts on the hand itself, plus Raph could tell Mike pulled a muscle in there somewhere. It was the way Mike kept wincing every time Raph pressed on Mike's palm a little too much.

Raph looked back up at Mike once he finished his work and frowned deeper if that was even possible, and took the water bottle and another rag. He folded the rag into a neat, compact square and poured some water onto it.

"Look up, Mikey." Mike did as told again, which was weirding Raph out quite a bit and let Raph clean his face off. As all the grime and blood and other bodily fluids started coming off, Mike let out a strangled sigh of relief. It felt better, if even just a little bit.

"Jesus, yer burnin'. You probably caught somethin' while you were out d'ere. Yer a wreck, man," Raph spoke quietly, tenderly, and his eyes softened as he stopped wiping Mike's face and used the back of his own hand to feel his brother's skin.

The comment made Mike even more upset, causing him to begin full-blown sobbing.

"Aye, aye, Mikey! Buddy, calm down alright? I...fuck, c'mere," Raph felt his own eyes begin to sting, and he coaxed his brother into a warm embrace. He curled around his brother's frame in a way that made Mike feel like not even a nuclear warhead could get past the heavy, strong arms that were encompassing him.

They stayed in this hug for about ten minutes, either one just reflecting on everything, lost in their thoughts.

"Alright, let's get'cha out of d'is, 'kay? I'll be right back," Raph whispered, for a reason he didn't even know, and rubbed his brother's back one more time before pulling away slowly and getting off the couch.

"Pl-please...don't go…" Mike's eyes were puffy and bloodshot, his nose was leaking something that looked like mucus mixed with blood, and he looked like a homeless person that just, well, just got jumped.

And Raph's heart broke. Mike's eyes, no matter how distressed, were just so wide and _innocent_ looking. It was like a child was staring him in the eyes, some child that just saw too much.

"Kiddo, I'll be _right_ back," Raph had to force that short sentence out. It hurt him so much more than he bet Mike knew to see those large, broken eyes looking up at him like he was the kid's protection from the whole world. He had this never-ending faith in Raph that Raph himself never understood, but was flattered by it nonetheless.

But then there were times like these, where Raph didn't want that role under his name anymore because he _failed_. He didn't do what the kid expected him to, what the kid needed him to do, but the kid still looked at him like _that_. Like he could take on anything and win.

It hurt Raph so damn bad.

Raph came back with scissors and a fresh change of clothing bundled up in his arms.

"In the mornin' you'll shower, but fer now you just need ta get outta those clothes," Mike watched as Raph sat back down where he was before and began putting the clothes between them.

They were all Raph's. And they all smelled like something Raph's nose had become blind to, but Mike's nose (even when busted) couldn't stand nor forget.

Mike's now-just-dried eyes filled with fresh tears.

"I-I _knew_ y-you started again! Even after you promised you stopped! It's 'cause of me, isn't it? Don't lie!" Raph bit his bottom lip at the harshly spoken accusation.

"I didn't mean ta relapse, Mikey. It started with just one smoke every once in'a while, then it built up again. It ain't got anythin' ta do with you. Quit actin' like yer any better an' just change yer damn clothes," The tone in Raph's voice left no room for argument, and honestly, he sounded done with everything in the world just then, so Mike didn't push anything. Mike made an indignant noise in his throat, shook his head once or twice, then began struggling with his clothes.

Raph let out a heavy breath and ran his calloused hands through his short, messy tuffs of brown hair, then helped his younger brother in his struggle.

Once the ruined, tattered clothes were off and Mike was in Raph's slightly oversized but comfy sweatpants and t-shirt, Raph gave Mike the half-empty water bottle.

"Here," Raph dug into the kit and retrieved a bottle of pain relievers, taking out the recommended dosage of two tablets, "in another coupl'a hours you can have more. When yer done we'll get you to bed an' ice yer eye. We'll talk an' shit in tha mornin'."

Mike nodded slightly, careful of his aching muscles, and downed the pills without hesitation while Raph began tidying up their mess.

"Raphie?" The call was so quiet that Raph almost missed it.

"Hmm?"

"M'sorry. For everything," Mike whispered, sitting up so he could prepare his sore body for the move into the bedroom.

Raph frowned and left the wet rag on the coffee table, along with the other supplies he had yet to put away. Honestly, it could wait until morning.

"Y'know, Mikey," Raph started, shrugging off his black hoodie that he had only worn for the sole purpose of picking up his brother, revealing his bare upper body and all the scars that covered it, "if you'd just-"

"Stay home. Don't go out and be dumb. Yeah, yeah...I know…" Mike mumbled, some stray tears making their way down his freckled cheeks.

"So ya know that. So then why do ya go out an' continue ta do it?" Mike looked away, not wanting to look at his brother because he knew that if he did, he might just verbally gut himself and tell his brother every single thing ever.

Raph waited a good five minutes, only to shake his head when he got nothing.

"Whateva, let's just get some rest. We'll worry 'bout all this in tha mornin'," He sighed, turning off the lights and helping his younger brother to the queen-sized mattress they shared.

Mike tried his best to carry his own weight this time, not wanting to burden his brother any further, but he ended up leaning onto his brother more than he cared to admit.

When Raph had his brother in bed, warm and safe and _knocked the fuck out_ , he left the bedroom to take a break in the hallway, knowing that the nice old lady, Mrs. Coopelin, across the way was also knocked out at this time, so no one he knew would catch him. He pulled out his pack and lighter, taking a moment to internally bash himself into damnation before beginning his, now, nightly ritual.

He had the nerves to tell his brother wrong from right, but he himself lied to all of his loved ones. Right. To. Their. Faces.

He coughed roughly on an interrupted drag of smoke and once he calmed down he scowled to himself and snuffed the bud out on the side of his sneaker. He threw it away once he got back inside, then proceeded to head back to the bedroom.

Raph's eyes settled on the form of his little brother under the blankets. His heart always broke a little when he thought about all the shit his brother not only puts _himself_ through but also gets put through by others.

He sat on the right side of the bed since Mike liked sleeping on the left side because it was further from the door and thus safer from anything or anyone that could break-in, and opened the night stand's drawer. Inside was a cluttered mess, but his wallet always stood out to him. Not because it had a logo of his favorite football team, or because it had been a gift from his big brother before he took off for Japan, but because of what was inside. No, not the money.

The pictures. The pictures of family and friends and all those dear to him. All those Raph would live, fight, and die for.

And the _poem_. The stupid fucking poem that Mike left on the same fucking nightstand that Raph kept his wallet in, that Raph slept _next to_. Mike left the damned poem there before Raph woke up, leaving Raph to panic and call up _everyone_ the entire day that Mike was missing because of-fucking-course the poem sent alarm bells _blaring_ in the very forefront of his mind. Raph should've known that all the times Mike 'stopped by' to 'visit' him was all just a desperate attempt to escape the hell he was going through with that abusive cunt he had to call his 'boyfriend'. Raph should've questioned his brother when he stayed _overnight_ at his place, or when he was wearing hoodies in the fucking summer, or when his brother was wearing make-up to _sleep_. His brother always loved doing and wearing make-up, but Mike even admitted that it could be suffocating to wear at home when they were younger; why the fuck would that change? Why didn't Raph ask any fucking questions?

It was a goddamn _suicide letter_. And the fact that Raph got the call from Donny by mid-day that Mike had _tried something so motherfucking stupid_ ; it pissed Raph off so damn much. If Raph had known that asshole Dean was such a hell-spawn, such a _sick, twisted bastard_ that could get his baby brother in such a bad mental state; if he knew that fucker could get his bright baby brother to try and commit _suicide_ , Raph would've beat the bitch to death before he could run away to the west coast. Raph figured it was oh-so-worth prison if he could make that son of a bitch scream for his life before Raph took it himself.

Raph didn't know why he kept the cursed thing in his wallet, but he guesses that it somehow serves as some type of sick reminder that Mike, no matter how good his acting makes it seem, isn't okay deep down. That his brother needed support.

And that Raph needed to step up his damn game. All this happened right under him; but not again. Never again.

He unfolded the small note, rubbing his thumb over the paper carefully.

_I ran too fast_

_I apologize, for my return took long_

_I offer no explanation of my thoughts_

_For my mind astray_

_And voice withdrawn_

_My heart was too strong,_

_My body moved on its own_

_An inexperienced fool with no strength, wisdom, or knowledge_

_Just a mistake whose failures hardly ever run silent,_

_But even with these words_

_This picture painted_

_These tales told_

_I still miss Freedom's call_

_I feel like it's the only thing I'll ever truly know,_

_So lest I slip_

_Lest I fall_

_All I ask_

_Is that you carry me home_

_I'm sorry_

Raph knew Mike wrote it in haste. The way the words were scribbled made that much clear. He also knew Mike had a creative streak, and it somehow made sense that if Mike were to leave anything behind for them... _God_ , it hurts him to think like this, but if Mike were to leave something behind for them to explain at least _something_ , then he would do it in style.

Raph held his head in his hands for a moment, not understanding why he'd do this to himself; why he'd look at the stupid note again and torture himself more. But then he folds the note after having another moment to himself, puts it back in his wallet, which he then puts in his nightstand again, and he kicks his sneakers off and gets ready to hold his brother tight so he can hopefully catch some sleep, despite knowing better.

And Raph watches his brother's chest go up and down, he studies Mike's injuries and the way Mike's face scrunches up in pain whenever he shifts a little too much in his sleep, and Raph remembers why he keeps it again.

The last time he slacked off on his job as a big brother, Michelangelo was abused and psychologically damaged by some prick. His brother tried to kill himself because of it. This time when he slacked off, his brother came back home hurt, sick, and was left with another crack in his heart.

Raph wouldn't fail his brother again.


End file.
